A World of Grey
by Gemini Green
Summary: Love. Something Tom Riddle cannot understand, though he secretly wants to, in his cold world of grey. 'He had become a natural charmer seemingly a master of romance. But all was rehearsed, controlled... Yet the touch of skin scared him.' T to be safe. AU.


Disclaimer: Tom is JKR's.

Love. To him the word was stretched, overused. It was a subtle weakness in disguise; a sadistic play by nature; a manipulation of the weak. But Tom Riddle wasn't weak, oh no. He was Slytherin's Heir, above all Nature's traps and above the weak souls he attended Hogwarts with.

He never did love. He never received love. And what was love, anyway, but some horrible disease that he was immune to. He had relished so much in power and control. It was this that gave him pleasure. Not love.

Love, love, love. If Tom ever heard that word spoken in the corridors again, he was sure he would hex the 'lovers' to oblivion. Everyone either had love, or wanted it, or denied they wanted it. But not Tom Riddle. He didn't want nor need it. He didn't need kisses and hugs and presents and 'I love you's'. It was all just too sickening, too embarassing. Tom Riddle swore he'd never stoop so low. He had an image to protect; an image of power, control. Although that image was still hazy these days, Tom hoped the day would come when all would fear to even utter his name. Love had nothing to do with it except his followers' love and fear of him. Love didn't suit his image, his principles, and that was final.

But once, long go, he actually bothered to ponder what it was all about; he tried to find the answer to this much talked about 'Love'. Was it a disease? Was it a higher understanding of the world? Was it a symbol of good? Did it bring power?

He would not remember but as a child, Tom Riddle had a need to see beauty in the everyday greys of the orphanage. Back then he dreamed of flying with the clouds, chasing rainbows and exploring magical castles. It was so simple then.

And whenever he played on his own, a part of him wanted company; to just be acccepted even if he was a little strange. A part of him wanted to be held the way children were held when their new family came for them. He wondered what it felt like to have a mother. He had seen pictures in storybooks of happy families, frozen in a moment...

He wondered if there was some magical connection when two people touched, or if those were just lies. He wondered about the least talked about subject - sex - and how unbelievably discusting and uncomfortable and unnecessary it seemed. And at the end of the day, he concluded that it was all just a ploy by Nature to control everyone and everything. Except Tom Riddle. He was above it all.

As he grew up, he learned the truth. His mother had died because of love. She was a foolish woman, he thought, who fell under the love spell which eventually shattered her heart. It ruined her; it killed her and left him to a world drowned in grey. If love was powerful enough to kill, Tom Riddle was sure to stay away.

It was a poison that warped minds; that turned people into fools. His mother, with Slytherin blood in her, could not fight it. So Tom Riddle made sure to avoid it, lest he be burned and scarred for life.

But even as he set walls around his heart, even though he instilled in himself a brilliant mask for all to see, even as he let hattred and the thirst for revenge fuel him and fill the small void in the center of his heart, he could not help but secretly envy those who had that little something he didn't.

It seemed so simple; a kind of language everyone understood. But he was left out and he absolutely hated it. The smiles on their faces held a light that he had never seen in the in his reflection. It seemed to be true euphoria. Oh, how he envied those souls.

But then he saw love triangles that tore friendships apart, constant enxiety, hours of simply sitting and wondering whether a certain someone shared the same feelings... Tom Riddle had seen it make people miserable. And it was at those moments that instead of envying and cursing in secret, he felt superior and proud. He was, after all, Slytherin's Heir, untouched by love and proud of it.

But as he grew from boy to man, he felt the most undesired impulses, and he feared that he himself would succumb to weakness. So many pretty girls caught his eye and made his skin tingle strangely. Suddenly his body was unpredictable.

Nature had a nasty sense of humour, he thought.

At first he brewed potions and tried all kinds of spells to kill the hunger within him, but no spell or potion could release him from Nature's fervent hold. His grades slipped a little, much to his horror, and he found that most of the time, his thoughts were bent on physical desire. Cruel, he thought bitterly.

He eventually succumbed to his desires. If nature wanted it, he would play along. Girls were more than willing for his caresses, his kisses, his sweet, subtle little nothings. He showed them the power of touch without feeling any connection himself. He whispered words he had memorised from books he did not understand; books which spoke of romance and warmth and surrender. He understood none of it, but it did not matter. Nature did not demand lust to come with love and therefore he felt that Nature and he had an accord; that they were on the same level.

Oh how wrong he was.

He had become a natural charmer; seemingly a master of romance. But all was rehearsed, controlled. He was again in control of his body...

Yet the touch of skin scared him.

Perhaps it was because he couldn't trust himself. What if he wanted more? What if it resulted in a _need _to be touched? What if Nature had a sick plan to make him fall, to make his heart reawaken and risk it all...

...for love?

Love, he realised, was something that could make him lose control. It could turn his world upside-down, torch his pride, destroy the strong walls he built around him, ruin his reputation and punish him further by making him _want _to live it for eternity. And in the very midst of his soul, it would fill the void with something uncontrollable that could not be erased.

The touch of skin fuelled his need to fill that void, not with hattred or revenge, but with a kind of simple euphoria. It terrified him more than anything. The thought that he could willingly lose himself into _her _eyes was unbearable. He could not do it; he could not surrender everything for something so silly.

He turned away so abruptly, without really thinking through it. Fear drove him away and he himself rekindled the flames of hattered within him. The flames kept him warm for a while, motivating him the way they used to, burning away his desire to be touched, to be held, to be whispered sweet nothings - everythings - to.

But just as quickly, he began to notice the same love-struck souls he had noticed in the beginning. And it was then that he saw what he could not have with lust, but with love, unconditional and pure. He saw how the souls relished in the smallest of things, those same things which brought colour to a world of grey. He saw them caught in their own moments of bliss where the world was remarkable and it was theirs. No amount of fear could tear that apart, he now knew. He realised that for so long he had been immersed in grey, the very grey he hated at the orphanage. Love had tried to reach him, but he was too lost in the darkness, too comfortable in his pain and anger to risk losing everything he ever knew about the world.

But fear, he realised, was always conquered by love. For someone so clever, it took him so very long to figure that out.

And then, lost in limbo with no idea of which direction to take, or whether to take any at all, Tom Riddle fell to his knees, his fingers running through his once neat hair. He could not run any longer. He could not drown in anger and hate, knowing what he now knew. Love had conquered him and he _wanted _to relish in a single moment; he _wanted _to be held, touched and whispered to. He wanted to see a world of colour, a world where _she _wanted the same.

Tom Riddle knew then what love was; at that moment when he opened his own eyes and saw beautiful brown ones mere inches away. He felt her breath against his lips and wished the moment and the world itself would freeze just long enough so he could drown in her touch, her essence.

Just one moment... for Eternity.

He leaned closer and surrendered.

A/N: Please don't steal this. I have ways of knowing. MWAHAHAHAHA! Ahem, yeah feel free to review but if you do steal I will crack... Peace out :D


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